


Because We Are All Angels and Demons and Everything in Between

by LadyPenn (i_write_a_lot)



Category: BBC Sherlock Holmes - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_a_lot/pseuds/LadyPenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an accident, Sherlock finally learns what John’s been seeing. Naturally, trouble comes of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because We Are All Angels and Demons and Everything in Between

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A City on the Head of a Pin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/138434) by [Mad_Maudlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin). 



After several months in which Sherlock barely notes John’s weird ‘wing fetish’ though Sherlock doesn’t know it’s a wing fetish he just knows that John’s obsessed with the wings on people’s (stranger’s) backs, something happens that makes their easy relationship change.   
John had been so careful not to touch Sherlock’s wings. Mrs. Hudson had always been the same way, so that wasn’t very suspicious for Sherlock to add onto his list of observations. Sherlock hadn’t deduced that she had the same issue as John when it came to his seeing things, of course, and that made John-and Mrs. Hudson-a bit relieved to tell the truth. But an accident happened in which forced John to touch one of Sherlock’s wings. And not just ‘touch’ it, either.  
John had been coming around the corner with a cup of tea in one hand, and hoping against hope to be able to watch the telly today (as it was impossible to do so when Sherlock was in the room-invariably Sherlock would be in the way of the telly forcing John to abandon the room for early bed or some other activity) as there was a game on that he was hoping to see. However, all plans vanished when he was unsuspectingly set upon a trap by Sherlock.  
Sherlock was lying on the floor of the living room, his wings spread out as wide as they could go. He seemed to be staring at the ceiling, not noticing John’s approach. John didn’t see that he was on the floor, or that the wings were on the floor until it was too late, and his bare foot stepped down hard on the wing that was in front of him, and John heard something snap and he froze in surprise before tumbling backwards to avoid stepping on the beautiful wings any further.   
A startled yelp, a crash, and then John was lying dazed on the floor of the hallway into the kitchen while Sherlock was looking around in confusion and some pain. Mrs. Hudson came rushing to see what the fuss was about.   
“What’s happened?” She asked, frantically. John gulped, and Sherlock was shaking his head, as though to clear it.   
“He stepped on me…but he was nowhere near me…” Sherlock said, frowning, and wincing. His left wing-the one that John had inexplicably stepped on-was bent slightly, and Mrs. Hudson stared at it.  
“You poor dears,” She said with a shaky sigh. “All right, I suppose it’s time. I’ll fix this right up, don’t you worry dear. John, are you all right?”  
The two of them had gotten a fair bit closer than Sherlock would likely ever notice, since she and John had discussed her able to see the wings just as he had. John swallowed.  
“Sherlock, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” John said formally, and Sherlock blinked.   
“It wasn’t your fault, you clearly didn’t see me.” Sherlock’s wing twitched, and he winced.   
“All right, now…” Mrs. Hudson hesitated. “Here, John-at least sit on the chair, so that I’ll be able to clean the mess up properly.” She insisted, helping him to the chair. “Now…let’s see.” She walked towards Sherlock, ignoring the mess for the moment, and going towards the wing. Sherlock winced as it twitched away from her.   
“Hold still, dear,” She said kindly, and Sherlock froze.   
“You see what John sees,” He accused, and she raised an eyebrow.   
“Are you only now figuring that out? Goodness, you’re slow.” She said with a wicked grin on her face. John somehow managed not to burst out laughing at Sherlock’s indignant look. It wasn’t often that someone pulled that particular line on the great Sherlock Holmes. She then hesitated, and slowly reached out and put her fingers on Sherlock’s injured wing. Sherlock gasped as though struck, and she hastily pulled back. Sherlock stared at her, and then at his wing-though he clearly couldn’t see it.   
“What did you do?” He demanded, staring. “What is it that’s on my back? How come you two can see it and I can’t?!” He said the last as an almost wail, and John felt pity for him for the first time. Mrs. Hudson looked rather unhappy.   
“Dear, I’m sorry…” She said softly. “Here-sit for a moment,” She suggested, and looking lost Sherlock did. She then hesitated, and said slowly. “I think that it might need a bandage-what do you think, John?”  
“Well, maybe.” John said, frowning slightly in thought as he stared at it. It was quivering slightly, and Sherlock looked in pain as well as numb. “Mrs. Hudson, do you think that we ought to tell him?”   
“We’ll see if we can put the bandage up on his…well,” She said, and disappeared to fetch the bandages. Sherlock stared at John, who was lost in thought. He hadn’t meant to hurt Sherlock, he really hadn’t. He’d been so careful…and now…  
“It wasn’t your fault, you know.” Sherlock offered tentatively, and John blinked.   
“But I hurt you,” Was all John could think of to say. Sherlock sighed.   
“At least you didn’t do it on purpose,” Sherlock responded clearly. “Look-if both you and Mrs. Hudson know what’s wrong, then I trust you both to help me since I clearly can’t help myself in this matter. Though it’s obviously attached to me…” He frowned, looking as though he were struggling to guess what it was that both Mrs. Hudson and John could see.   
John sighed, and finally-after months of keeping it from Sherlock-told him.   
“Wings,”   
Sherlock froze, and looked towards him.   
“What?”   
“Wings-that’s what I’ve been seeing. Wings on people’s backs. All kinds of wings-black, brown, white, grey, blue…” John hesitated. “Your wings are black, and enormous-”   
“You mentioned they were around seven to eight feet long…” Sherlock said numbly. “Why in hell didn’t I think of wings?” He sounded furious with himself for not getting the answer, John realized.   
“You couldn’t have known,” John said comfortingly. “It’s not as if it’s a normal thing, after all.” John added, and just as Sherlock looked as though he were about to let loose a long rant to him, Mrs. Hudson returned with bandages, two cups of hot tea, and a broom.  
“Now drink that right up, dears.” She said, encouragingly. Sherlock did as he was told, but John ignored his, watching carefully as she made to bandage Sherlock’s wing, which seemed to know to keep still this time. It remained still, and she managed to get it bandaged…and then after doing so, she stepped back, and Sherlock-stared.   
John wondered how it would look-mere air holding hold bandages that were clearly attached to something that wasn’t supposed to exist must seem a sight. Sherlock seemed to take it well for a moment…and then passed out.   
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” John muttered, and moved forward to wake Sherlock. “Sherlock…wakey, wakey.” John said, and a few seconds later Sherlock woke. For a second he just stared at John, and then said-in a very small voice,  
“Wings?”  
“Wings.” John confirmed, and Sherlock sighed.   
“At least I know what it is your staring at now…” He muttered, and John rolled his eyes. Of course-Sherlock had to know everything.  
\--  
A week after Sherlock’s the wings “revelation”, as Sherlock called it, the two of them were in a bank, cashing their checks that they’d earned for the week. John had suggested that they go out for something different-maybe Mexican-and Sherlock wasn’t wanting to do such a thing. John was just getting through the door of the bank with Sherlock in front of him, when he felt someone behind him. A split second later, and an arm wrapped itself around his neck, and something cold was shoved to his head.  
“NOBODY MOVE! I WANT ALL YOUR CASH IN THIS BAG, OR I BLOW HIS BRAINS OUT!” John’s hostager shouted loud.   
Screams split the air, and Sherlock turned around with a horrified look on his face. John must look a sight, he mused to himself, inwardly sighing. Of course-their day off, and he gets taken as a hostage in a bank robbery.   
“Sir, I believe that you are in a dangerous position,” Sherlock started to give one of his confusing speeches…when he seemed to pause, looking a bit confused-and then he was staring at them, looking transfixed by whatever it was he was staring at.   
“What’re you looking at? Give me your cash!” The bank robber yelled, furious. Sherlock was staring at the pair of them, still transfixed.   
John realized something-the bank robber had yet to shoot anyone, and he didn’t appear to seem all that threatening except for shouting and threatening to kill someone. But…now that John thought about it, he wasn’t holding a gun. It didn’t feel like a gun pressed into his back, and after several times being held hostage, John was positive he knew what that would feel like. So, clearly this bank robber wasn’t as dangerous as he could be.   
Still, he wished that Sherlock would stop staring at him and do something!  
“GIVE ME YOUR CASH, NOW!” John’s hostager thundered, and several onlookers seemed to come to the same conclusion as John had-that the bank robber wasn’t that dangerous.   
“Sir, if you do not release the gentleman you are holding, then we will be forced to take you into custody,” One of the security guards finally gets over towards them, and the bank robber glares threateningly at them all but seems to realize that he’s got nowhere to go. Out of the blue, the cops pull up. After a moment of shouting demands-in which John can hear Mycroft’s voice-the bank robber panics.  
He begins to escape, using John as a hostage still, and going backwards towards the back doors of the bank store. John begins to feel a bit panicked, and wonders perhaps if there might be a way to get himself out of this, since Sherlock is still bloody staring at him.  
“Sherlock!” John snapped. “Stop bloody staring, and-omph!” This was due to the bank robber shoving something into John’s mouth so that he’d stop talking. Sherlock seemed to snap out of his trance, and began to run towards them. At that, the bank robber truly panicked and banged out of the back door and into the alleyway, moving at a run, and forcing John to do the same.  
John stumbled, and the bank robber fell on top of him, nearly crushing him beneath his weight. John panicked, and struggled-but the bank robber seemed stronger than he looked. He got up, and jerked John up with him, moving at an impossible speed down the alleyway, and away from rescue. John’s heart was pounding in his throat and he was struggling to get free. Then, the next thing he knew, he was being shoved against the alleyway wall, and a hand closed around his throat cutting off his air supply.   
NO!  
Panic really began to build, and he grappled, though it didn’t seem to help. The man was very strong, and seemed to know exactly what to do to make John feel even more afraid.   
“I’m going to rip your wings apart, buddy, and I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born,” He growled, moving his hand towards John’s shoulder blades.  
But he didn’t have wings!   
John then gasped as something collided sharply with the both of them, sending them toppling towards the ground. John’s head hit the cement hard enough to see stars, and he laid there for a few moments, dazed and confused. Seconds later, and he could hear shouting going on, and then a voice saying urgently,  
“Watson? Watson, are you all right?”   
John blinked a few times, and sat up slowly. He spit the thing in his mouth out and saw it was a rag. He realized that Sherlock was avoiding a few spots next to him.   
“I’m…okay,” John said, gulping air. “What was wrong with you, though? You looked like you were in a trance. You were staring at us.” John protested, and Sherlock nodded.   
“I can see wings,” He explained, sounding matter-of-fact…and pleased. John stared at him.   
“You…what?” He asked, baffled.   
“I can see wings. Your wings, and mine. It’s rather cool, your wings are a pretty blue color, and they are quite stunning. They’re around the same size as mine, actually.” Sherlock said with a wild grin. “Maybe we can go flying.”  
“Mr. Holmes? The bank robber is locked away and Officer Mycroft wants to speak with you later on.” A police officer told him, and Sherlock nodded.   
“Great, thanks.” He said, looking giddy. John could only shake his head and wonder at how Sherlock can see the wings now and not before.   
“We’re going to have so much fun-we’ll have to test the wings, and we need to figure out how many other people know, and why we have them and-”  
John groaned-he wished, not for the first time that he hadn’t stepped on Sherlock’s wing.   
But as Sherlock continued talking excitedly about their new project to look through, John couldn’t help but feel a rush of fondness towards his friend. The two of them would help one another through this until they can see their own wings.   
And then maybe they really would be able to go flying…  
Towards freedom…  
End.


End file.
